


Two by two and side by side

by the_eighth_sin



Series: sinbin fills [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blood, Frottage, Gun play, M/M, Mr and Mrs Smith AU, Violence, kinkmeme fill, movie typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6409210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_eighth_sin/pseuds/the_eighth_sin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Honestly, it's not until Connor is standing there, gun drawn, finger on the trigger, that he realises he can't do it.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Wherein husbands Connor and Jack work for rival assassination agencies and get tasked with taking eachother out</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two by two and side by side

**Author's Note:**

> [ This was for a kinkmeme prompt over at the sinbin: "That sex scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. ...but with hockey players." ](http://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3088.html?thread=3352592#cmt3352592)

Honestly, it's not until Connor is standing there, gun drawn, finger on the trigger, that he realises he can't do it. Jack was never an assignment per se, but he was the perfect soft cover, worked from home, already had ties in the area, Connor met his fucking parents for godsake. He's more now.

Jack is peering up in defiance, pressing his forehead against the end of the barrel. 

“Do it. Just fucking do it Connor.”

Connor’s heard those words a hundred times and never once hesitated. He hesitates now.

He can’t do it.

He pulls the gun away slowly, sighing, sets it down on the counter top beside them and then leans down to kiss the red imprint his gun left on Jack’s skin.

Jack’s head comes up in a blur of movement, butting Connor squarely in the nose. He reacts on instinct, pushing Jack away firmly and then chasing after him, shoving their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Connor can’t help it, he can’t, he won’t. He trusts Jack over the big wigs at the agency. 

Jack bites at Connor’s mouth. There’s blood dripping from his nose and falling between them, the coppery tang in his mouth makes Connor stupidly hot. He’s sweating in his shirt and he shoves harder at Jack, gets his thigh between Jack’s legs.

They’re both breathing so loud and then Jack flips them, presses Connor against the kitchen counter. Connor’s hand flies out to brace himself, wedding band clacking against the granite, and something shatters, the fruit bowl maybe, or the wine glasses Jack left out after dinner. Connor doesn’t really care, he just wants to get closer to Jack.

“Fuck,” he says, “Jack come on, let’s just...” Jack cuts him off with another kiss, nothing nice about it and Connor thinks, okay, okay, he doesn’t want sweet, that’s fair, Connor was holding a gun to Jack’s head a few minutes ago. Connor can do rough, he can do mean, he can let Jack have this.

They hit the floor so hard Connor’s teeth shake, his head ricocheting off their ridiculous carpet. Jack still hasn’t said anything and Connor lies there with Jack’s weight heavy on top of him. Their kisses slow, but they aren’t any softer. Jack’s teeth are wicked, nipping and biting at Connor’s neck and the more he relaxes, the rougher Connor gets, grinding down against Connor, the friction of their jeans almost too much.

Connor squirms, and Jack seems to relent a little bit, enough that Connor can roll them again, trying to avoid the broken glass he knows is around here somewhere.

Connor manages to get their pants down around their knees, and everything is so much slicker, both of them damp with sweat, dicks wet. They’ve been married almost 6 years and this is familiar, this frantic rutting of their hips, the pattern of their bodies.

“Jack.” Connor pants, can’t help the way his name sounds tripping out of his mouth, reverent.

Connor loves him.

Jack’s face is wet when he presses it against Connor’s neck, his mouth is open and Connor thinks he’s crying and he doesn’t want to think about it, about how they got here. Connor can’t see his gun, but he can still feel the phantom weight of it in his hand. He presses closer to Jack, lets himself really feel the hot weight of him and his dick snugged up against Jack’s skin, Jack’s gasping pants.

They come like that, wrapped up in eachother, Connor’s blood in their mouths and Connor doesn’t know where they’re going to go from here, how he’s going to explain this to the agency, Jack alive and well and panting in his arms. He doesn’t care, he realises slowly. He’ll go to the ends of the earth for Jack, and he can only hope that Jack feels that way too.

**Author's Note:**

> Big up to [ starmorgs ](https://www.twitter.com/starmorgs) for suggesting this pairing. Figured I'd stretch myself and give it a try so, thank you!
> 
> Title from Love Stinks by The J Geils Band
> 
> [I'm @the_eighth_sin on Twitter ](http://www.twitter.com/the_eighth_sin), [and here on Tumblr ](http://www.drinkingzaynsgatorade.tumblr.com)


End file.
